Lane keeps both hands on the wheel, eyes forward. She barely glances up when I lean toward her open window, resting my forearms there uninvited.
"Thanks," I say, the word clipped and precise.
"No problem."
I hesitate, then add, "By the way, you never answered my text about Duke. I've taken tomorrow off, so I can take him if that's okay with you."
Her eyes flick toward me, hazel shifting green in this light. "Shoot. I completely forgot you texted about that. Sorry. What's the deal?"
"They asked if we could come tomorrow. Luke's going for a pre-op appointment so they are ready to roll when a kidney comes in. They want to use the opportunity to highlight the #SaveChristmas campaign and bring awareness to organ donation." I shrug, feigning indifference.
"I can come. I took the week off before New York, so I'm free," she finishes, her voicecontrolled.
That surprises me. I figured she'd take the out to not have to fake the whole happy family thing with me.
"Oh, cool. Then we can ride together."
She shifts the car into gear with a single nod. "Alrighty, then. I'll leave you two guys to it. Is he spending the night with you, or will he be back tonight?"
She probably wants to know if she can shack up with The Jerk.
"He can stay with me. Let's talk tonight, though, about plans for tomorrow. We can pick you up in the morning if that works."
"Yeah, we'll talk," she says as she waves and pulls forward through the open space. "Call me when y'all are done."
She sticks her hand out of her open window as she pulls out.
Well, that was about as dry as it gets. No mistaking it. She hates me.
SEVENTEEN
Lane
I pull out of the Target parking spot faster than I mean to, the wheel stiff under my grip.
My tires thrum over the painted lines as if speed alone can put distance between me and Woody, standing there with that maddening calm on his face.
The truth is, I couldn’t sit there another second. Not with leaning into my car, his breath so close I could feel it. Not with the memory of his mouth on mine still lodged in my skin like a brand.
A week ago, I swore I knew exactly who he was. He was unreliable, unreachable, a man who would always put work and everyone else's safety first.
And yet in New York, I let myself believe the fairytale that he had grown, that he understood how to balance it. The ease and almost coordinated logistics with Sanders, the laughter, dare I say, fun.
And, oh, god, the kiss.
I was stupid enough to think maybe, just maybe, he’d changed. Until the rug gets yanked out from under me like it always does.
So yes, I was short with him. Clipped. Cold. It's the only way we will get back to where we were before this whole #SaveChristmas thing began. More like #RuinChristmas as far as I'm concerned.
I can’t afford to stand there smiling like we’re all chummy, because the truth is dangerous. The truth is, I wanted him. And wanting Woody Beamer is the quickest way back to the same heartbreak I’ve been crawling out of for essentially my entire adult life.
I just didn't know it was so close to the surface.
I tighten my grip on the wheel until my knuckles ache, promising myself tomorrow at Duke will be different. Tomorrow, I’ll keep the boundaries where they belong.
Now I have the rest of the day to myself. I'll grab groceries, finish that mountain of laundry, wrap presents, and maybe even start meal prepping for Christmas.
I can't believe it's already here. Only a week left.
